


Is It Therefore the Less Gone?

by RainbowSheltie



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode: s02e21 Deadlock, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowSheltie/pseuds/RainbowSheltie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voyager is duplicated in a freak accident. Only one ship can survive so Ship B Harry is sent to live on Ship A (Ship A Harry had died, so it's only fair Ship B Harry is transferred to Ship A). It goes to say that there is no difference between Tom Paris A and Tom Paris B but Harry knows there's a difference even though there isn't supposed to be and it's all very quite confusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is It Therefore the Less Gone?

**Author's Note:**

> **BETA** : TheSupernova

_All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.  
__-_ Edgar Allen Poe

Ensign Harry Kim sat in the deserted mess hall, the only light coming from the distant stars; the wide windows let in the expansive starscape of the surrounding sector. He clasped the metallic cup in his hands. He had chosen an orange pekoe tea infused with a hint of lavender and lemon, hoping it would help calm him down because the past few hours had been nothing but a whirlwind of activity.

Voyager had been caught in a "spatial scission" causing the ship to be duplicated (into Ship A and Ship B) and during the effort to stabilize the two ships (which were drawing on the same energy source) they were suddenly attacked by the Vidiian’s (who wanted nothing more than to kill every lifeform to harvest their organs and perform experiments on the cold dead corpses to further advance their own medical knowledge).

The Vidiian's were a strange, violent species that were born sick, with something akin to the plague and needed constant medical attention (such as organ replacements combined with a variety of drugs and medications) to survive. A scavenger species.

So Ensign Harry Kim on Voyager Ship A had died in a freak accident (dragged into the vacuum of space by a hull breach) while Ensign Harry Kim on Voyager Ship B was still alive, but facing imminent death because of the Vidiian invasion (last count, there had been 347 Vidiians and counting).

Captain Kathryn Janeway (of Ship A _and_ Ship B) knew two things: that only one Voyager could survive (unless they wanted to both ships to be destroyed) and that the Vidiian's had already won.

The answer? Send Ensign Harry Kim (Ship B) to Ship A (where Harry had died) through the rift connecting the two ships. Janeway had self-destructed Ship B, thus saving Ship A from imminent doom.

What this boiled down to was that time-travel and time-related incidents gave Harry a headache. Ship A was not his ship and this was not his crew, not his friends and loved ones; all his Ship B companions were dead.

There were technically no differences between the people in Ship A and Ship B, except for minute things like having scrambled eggs for breakfast instead of an omelet or whether Harry wanted to chew on his breakfast toast slowly or quickly. It might just be that there are no differences at all, only that it had some 98.7% probability that the timeline had been minutely altered in some way, shape or form. No one really knew.

At least, that's how he understood it. This leads directly into why he’s here in the mess hall, staring out into the vast expanse of space.

* * *

The natural white starlight was soothing, along with the tea he had replicated, although it was lukewarm at this point.

His thoughts were running in circles: this wasn't his ship or his crew but it _was_ his ship and crew, because there technically wasn't any notable difference between them, but there _was_ a difference in his mind and technically there _was_ a difference, though there weren't enough differences to make this "current" ship a "different" ship. No one had changed, not their personalities or histories and friendships, and yet the moment he stepped thought the rift, they had ceased being the people he knew (even if they still _were_ the same people he knew).

It's no surprise that he couldn't sleep, because it didn't make any sense (even though it really did).

 _"I'm not sure. I mean, this isn't really my ship, and you're not really my captain, and yet you are, and there's no difference. But I know there's a difference. Or is there? It's all a little weird."  
__"Mister Kim, we're Starfleet officers. Weird is part of the job."_  

\- Ensign Kim and Captain Janeway, _"Deadlock_ "

Harry doesn't remember who said there were minute differences in the first place, but he found that out after he had talked to Janeway otherwise he would have asked her opinion on the subject. At this point, it wasn't worth it so he'd just have to deal with this himself.

Of course, there was another reason he was here and not his quarters pondering this out: Lieutenant Tom Paris.

He first met Tom on Deep Space 9 in the canteen, where the bartender, Quark, was trying to swindle him into buying some "rare" crystals (which would make excellent gifts for his folks back home) though it turned out they were commonplace rocks, which were only worth an eighth of the current price tag.

Tom had always been the street smart, playboy type and Harry had been positive that he didn't even show up on Tom's radar; in Harry's experience, playboys like Tom didn't hit on people like Harry. He had tried hitting on a few "playboy" types and needless to say, it usually ended in either embarrassment or a private "Sorry but, you’re not quite my type". Plus, Tom was the "let's flirt with every woman who crosses my path" type of guy. His demeanor practically _screamed_ heterosexual.

Harry was determined not to let on that he found Tom attractive, but Tom was _smart_ and intuitive about these things and it wasn't long before Harry found himself unconsciously flirting with his best friend. Two weeks of this and imagine Harry's surprise when Tom invited Harry to his quarters for a quaint romantic dinner (because Harry was a total romantic) and asked Harry to go out with him. They've been together ever since.

Fast forward to Harry's current melancholy. The difference-no difference (between Tom A and Tom B, mainly) is having a good laugh at his expense.

The actual reason he chose the mess hall was because he wasn't sure whose quarters he wanted to return to, his or Tom's. As Tom was currently scheduled for nightshift, he had plenty of time to figure out what he wanted to do.

"Something on your mind?" Tom asked. Harry heard the door slide shut behind him.

Apparently Tom wasn't on nightshift.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, not daring to turn around. "Nothing you would understand."

"Try me," Tom said, unfazed by Harry's attitude. "You know I'm here for you."

Tom walked up behind him, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry immediately shook it off.

"Just- just don't, okay? Not right now." Harry slumped further in his seat, clutching the mug tightly, pulling in closer to his body. It felt like a lifeline right now, something stable he could count on, something that hadn't changed.

Tom held his hands up. "Okay, okay," he said, moving off to the side; he pulled out the chair next to Harry, scooting it a few feet away. After a few minutes of silence, of which Tom was surprisingly still (Tom was often fidgety when he had nothing to focus on) he broke the silence.

"Tell me what I have to do, to help you."

Harry shook his head. "Is this really you? Am I really your Harry, or just someone who looks like him?" He began twirling the cold tea cup in his hands. "Am I your last resort, because your Harry died? Is this us, settling?"

"You don't ask the easy questions, do you?" Tom grinned, huffing lightly. "You're asking what I would do if my Harry was still alive?"

A nod.

"I'm not adverse to polyamory you know. It's like dating twins, but better, because it's all you. As long as you don't get jealous of yourself, I can see it working out nicely."

When Harry looked over, Tom had a glinting mirth in his eyes and Harry couldn't help but laugh. That was _very_ Tom. "Leave it to you to avoid my question entirely while answering it at the same time."

"Hey," Tom said, cocky as always. "It's a gift, you know. Can't imagine I'd last in a relationship very long if I couldn't cover my ass whenever I fuck up somehow."

"Yeah, it's inevitable, but you’re smooth enough to pull off lines like that, most days." Harry looked over, yielding a slight grin of his own. The smile slipped off his face a moment later, however. "Do you still love me? Are we- are we still together?"

Harry was so over focused on his cup that he didn't see Tom until a hand wrested the cup from his grasp. The back of Tom's hand slid across Harry's cheek until the palm pressed against the side of his face, guiding his attention back to Tom. Tom was bent over Harry, free hand placed on the table next to him, intense blue eyes boring into his own.

"I think you know the answer to that, Harry." Tom leaned in, touching his forehead to Harry's. "God, I lost you today. You _died_ and now you're here and no matter what, I'll always love you."

Tom's eyes spoke of passion and a barely contained sexual desire. "I'll show you how much I love you, Harry. I _need_ to hold you, to mark you, to watch your face as your body remembers who it belongs to. I _need_ you, so please, come with me. Come home, come to bed."

Harry felt the heat inside him flare to life, and he surged up, pressing his lips against Tom's. It was harsh, and uncoordinated; noses clashed and their teeth made that small clicking sound as they bumped together but it didn't matter because Tom was _alive_ and _his_. Tom pulled him up, arm wrapped around Harry's waist and mouth latched onto his like a leech as they made their way to the door.

In the end, Harry decided that the time-differences could go fuck themselves because as long as he had Tom, then it didn't really matter.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and beginning quote taken from " _A Dream Within a Dream_ " by Edgar Allen Poe.


End file.
